Of French and Notebooks
by littlemusings
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabbles featuring our boys, Blaine and Kurt, in the most peculiar situations ever. V. Kurt Hummel is forced to transfer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One Blaine Anderson shows him where to sit on the train.
1. Of French and Notebooks

_Hi, everyone! This is littlemusings. This is the first in a series of one-shots/episodes of our favorite couple, Klaine (with splashes of our other lovable Glee pairings as well). I'll be updating this either every other day or at least once a week with a new little tale about our boys! I hope you guys enjoy. Each chapter will be completely random - some will be based on a song or whatever comes to mind.  
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_I got inspiration for this first chapter from listening to Ingrid Michaelson's adorable and sweet song, 'The Way I Am' and the lack of focus on Dalton/Klaine after _Silly Love Songs. _I wanted to explore their feelings after Kurt told Blaine that he thought Bee wanted to serenade him on Valentine's Day. This is just a little bit before _Original Song..._probably a few days before Pavarotti (/sob) died and Kurt sang 'Blackbird', in which Blaine starts to sort of *feel* something for our boy, Kurt and attempts to explain how he feels. This is before Blaine's amazing epiphany. Enjoy! _

_(Oh, and I used Google Translator for the parts that are in French. Please, bear with me. I have no knowledge of the French language. Haha.)_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Glee. If I did, there would be more Kloulder moments. And rainbows. And...and just a lot of other crack!things.  
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><p><strong>I. <strong>_**Of French and Notebooks**_  
>Time Frame: Pre-Kliss  Pre-RIP Pavarotti and Born This Way / Post-Silly Love Songs

_I love the way you say good morning  
>And you take me the way I am<br>_Ingrid Michaelson, 'The Way I Am'_  
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Kurt Hummel was in love. It was obvious – Mercedes knew it, _Mr. Schue_ knew it (_dear Gaga_), Wes, David, and the other Warblers obviously knew it – everyone knew, period. He tried to deny it, of course (_Who the heck could resist _Blaine?), but it was impossible to do so. He was in love with Blaine Anderson. Madly in love, it seemed. And there he was, sitting in the junior commons of Dalton Academy, supposedly doing his homework during lunch break.

Except, he wasn't. He gazed longingly at the two names he had written in his leather planner:

_Kurt + Blaine_

Oh, yes, he was in love. (_Why else would I be doodling his name with mine?)_

"Good morning, Kurt."

(_Oh. My. God._)

Kurt looked up and saw Blaine Anderson in all his glory, smiling down on him. It took all of his willpower not to blush – Blaine was making it very difficult not to do so. He immediately sat up in his seat, slamming his notebook shut—God forbid Blaine saw his heart doodles—and nodded curtly, his lips pursed in a nervous smile.

"Good morning to you too, Blaine," he said brightly. (_I'm so stupid. Say something else, dummy!_)

"You look a bit tired. What time did you get up to get to school today?" the shorter boy asked, leaning against the wall by Kurt's armchair. (_This is awkward. This is _so _awkward. Oh my McQueen, we're the only ones in here _– _damn it_!)

"Five. I had to get out of the house by five forty-five to make the drive here. Unfortunately, I had to rush my moisturizing routine." (_He might think you're a freak. Stop mentioning your moisturizing routine; stop being stupid overall!)_ Kurt responded, maintaining his ramrod posture as he sat. Blaine walked over and sat next to him. "Now I think my pores are going to get bigger. It's depressing. I'll have holes all over my face," Kurt said, raising his hands and dropping them in faux defeat.

(_…What did I just say?_)

"Kurt, don't worry, your face is perfectly fine," Blaine laughed, folding his arms. "Which brings me to ask – why don't you just board here at Dalton?"

"As you said, the tuition here at Dalton is steep, and '_not everyone can pay it'_," Kurt said matter-of-factly. "My dad and step-mom were able to pay for the school tuition, but we didn't have enough for room and board. And, about my face, going one day without completing my routine is just—just facial injustice."

"Your face is fine, and about boarding, that's too bad," Blaine sighed, his lips pursed into a pout. Kurt let out a rattling breath, his face getting redder.

"Yes, yes it is," Kurt mumbled. "My face is dry," he added, touching his face with a pale hand.

"Kurt, you look wonderful. Don't worry about it; your face still looks exactly the same. You are fine, just the way you are."

"…You really think so?" Kurt asked, his cheeks flushing a deep tone of red.

"Yes," Blaine said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his face also flashing shades of scarlet.

Silence filled the space between them.

"Anyway…aren't you supposed to be in the cafeteria?" Kurt asked suspiciously to dissolve the silence, his eyes narrowing. "Usually your prompt and dapper attitude seems to run your daily life. Why are you going off-schedule for once, may I ask, Warbler Blaine?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and smiled. "I was looking for you," he shrugged. "You're usually at lunch with Wes, David, Jeff, the rest of the Warblers, and I."

"I was…doing homework. French essay for Mrs. Elliot."

"_C'est étrange_," Blaine began. "_En general, vous finir votre travail avant la clase._"  
>["That's strange. You usually finish your work before class."]<p>

Kurt felt his heart beat faster; luckily he covered his inner-freak out. (_He's speaking to me in French. He only does that in class. Now he's speaking to me in French_ outside _of class _– _calm down, Kurt, calm down!_)

"_Je suis allé à la maison tard la nuit dernière,_" Kurt responded back coyly, keeping himself composed. "_Nous avons eu la _Warbler _pratique, rappelez-vous, Monsieur Anderson?_"  
>["I went home late last night. We had Warbler practice, remember, Mr. Anderson?"]<p>

"Of course I remember," Blaine laughed. "It's just a surprise seeing you work on homework."

(_Jeez, Blaine, so eloquent an answerer._)

"What, you think I don't do my work? Shame on you," Kurt snapped, frowning. (_I sound like a mother._)

"No, I'm just saying," Blaine said quickly, "You usually do your work at home and relax at lunch with us rather than work on it here."

(_Oh no, he got me._)

"_Pourquoi êtes-vous curieux?_" Kurt remarked suspiciously.  
>["Why are you so curious?"]<p>

"Just…just looking out for a friend," Blaine nodded, obviously reassuring himself more than Kurt. "And Kurt, you've been acting a bit peculiar since the GAP Attack and that day at the Lima Bean."

"To be honest, Blaine, it's been _you _who has been avoiding me since then. You're not exactly ninja, remember, Mr. Eurasian? Your attempts to hide from me have been duly noted."

After the Warblers' insane debacle at the GAP, and after Kurt had confessed to Blaine that he thought it was _he _– Kurt, that is – was the one Blaine wanted to serenade on Valentine's Day, the pair had been slightly distant. Blaine had taken to his dormitory more after school and right after Warbler practices, which bothered Kurt, because it was usually Blaine who accompanied him to his Navigator after practices. So, Kurt obliged and decided to do the same, starting today with his skipping lunch.

"That's crazy," Blaine said, sniffing indifferently. "Why would I avoid you? You—you're my best friend, Kurt. I wouldn't let you go for the world. You really do mean a lot to me."

(_'I wouldn't let you go for the world.' 'You really do mean a lot to me.' Oh my God, Blaine, make up your fricking mind and stop being so uptight about every single thing_!)

Kurt came to the firm consensus that if he had been given a heart monitor at that moment in time, it would have broken by now.

"That's sweet," he began, biting his lower lip. (_I think I should check in at the nurse's office—damn, Blaine._) "But I think you _have _been avoiding me. Anything on _your _mind? This…this _'best friendship_' isn't exactly one-sided, you know."

"…Before I tell you, I would like to ask you why you're here and not in the cafeteria. I know that's not your French notebook," Blaine said, his eyes targeting Kurt's leather planner. "You were drawing designs for _Wicked _in that a few weeks ago."

Kurt quickly stuffed the notebook behind his back and cleared his throat. "I've transferred notebooks."

"That's impossible, because your French notebook is blue and you haven't finished all the pages in it yet."

(_Dear God, he knows exactly how my notebook looks and how many pages I've filled in. God, Blaine, what on earth is your problem? First, you know my coffee order, second, you remember my excuses from weeks ago, third, you went looking for me, and fourthly, you've memorized my notebook color scheme—)_

"Times change. I was bored with the type of plastic the cover was made of. Leather seems classier. More sheek. More French." (_Good excuse. Very good excuse! Good job, Hummel!_)

"Personally, I perceive the French to be more into fabrics rather than leather. Leather's out this season. I watched clips from Paris Fashion Week. No signs of leather jackets or anything."

Kurt froze. (_Holy sh—of course he'd know! Stupid Hummel!_)

"And judging by the size of your leather notebook, it's more pocket-sized and planner-esque. You surely can't fit an entire essay in a notebook you'll use for the rest of the year—"

"Who are you to judge notebook sizes? Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?" Kurt cut in, agitated. Blaine raised his eyebrows and looked absolutely taken aback at Kurt's sudden change in character. Kurt internally slapped himself and softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I'm just a bit sleepy."

(_Sleepy. Right. Good excuse. Again. You are really a trooper. Watch as this one goes down the drain like your notebook one. 'Leather'. _Stupide! Vous êtes stupide, Kurt Hummel!)

"It's no problem. I'm sorry I questioned you," Blaine said apologetically, biting his lower lip.

(_You do that one more time, and I will skewer you. Or something else. Whatever works._)

"Now, about the answer to my question before you turned all CSI on me…"

"To be perfectly honest with you, Kurt," Blaine began hesitantly. "I've been thinking that…"

(_Here it comes: he's going to tell me he loves me, or something along the lines of that!_)

"…That…"

Unfortunately, the sounds of loud footsteps sliding into the junior commons interrupted Blaine and Kurt's discussion. Wes and David entered the room, followed by Jeff and Thad, fellow members of the Warblers, suspicious and grinning.

"Warbler…" Wes began.

"…Blaine Anderson," David followed, eyebrows narrowing.

(_Oh dear._)

"Yes?" Blaine said, his teeth gritted into a smile.

"It was weird, not seeing you at lunch, so we looked all over the place. You missed it; they made gourmet Asian food. It's not as good as your mom's or Wes' mom's, Blaine, but it was delicious anyway. They made that pan-sheet noodle stuff—" Jeff began excitedly. David and Wes rolled their eyes.

"It's called _pancit_, Jeffrey," Wes said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, even Headmaster Crenshaw was questioning your location since you're always prompt and on time for lunch, Blaine."

(_Okay. I forgot Wes was more uptight than Blaine for about thirty minutes._)

"And you too, Kurt," David added, looking towards a frozen and blinking Kurt.

"You make us sound like a pair of soulless automatons," Blaine grumbled.

Kurt was appalled. Of all the times for Super Wes and Supposedly-Equally-Super David and their special sidekicks, Jeffrey and Thad to interrupt his happy moments – this was absolutely the worst.

"Hey, we're just stating facts," Thad sniggered. "You know us."

(_Soulless automatons, ha!_)

"I was just talking to Kurt about Mrs. Elliot's French essay," Blaine said coolly, retaining his incredibly dapper and polite personality. "We were discussing about the historical figures we chose to write about."

"Thank God I'm taking Spanish," Jeff grinned, sitting on a nearby armchair. "Elliot would have murdered me." The other boys took seats in random areas around the room.

"Warbler practice tonight at six," David called as he searched through bookshelves.

"I thought you guys came here to scold us?" Kurt said loudly.

"We were just messing with you two lovers," Wes said coyly. "A bit peculiar, isn't it? Blaine and Kurt, both missing from lunch. I find it intriguing."

"We…we are _not _lovers," Blaine said indignantly, though Kurt could hear hesitation in his voice.

"Absolutely not," Kurt nodded fervently. David turned around from the book he was looking at and raised a speculative eyebrow.

"Okay, keep pretending," Thad called out.

Just then, the bell rang, and they could hear the sound of the rest of the Dalton boys leaving the canteen. Frustrated, Kurt picked up his bag, stuffed his planner in it, and dashed out of the junior commons before anyone could say anything. "See you in French" was the last thing he said.

(_Always, those four, always, always, always! I hate this, I hate this feeling, oh my Gaga, what on earth am I going to do?_)

But, even though he couldn't get an answer out of Blaine as to why they weren't as close as before, he knew one thing was for sure: _Blaine was fine with every fiber of his being. _Dry face and all.

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><p><em><strong>Next Time: <strong>"Under The Sea" _- Klaine, with background Finchel_ / Summer 2011, post-New York  
>Blaine doesn't know how to swim. Kurt obliges to teach him how. Plus, Rachel wants to prove to the boys, especially Finn, that she can be sexy without the actions. <em>

**Reviews are lovely.**_  
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	2. Under The Sea

_Thank you all for your alerts and reviews. I got inspiration for this from a trip to the swimming pool. Lame, huh? But, this takes place after the "New York" season finale, and it takes place at the beginning of Blaine and Kurt's wonderful summer together._

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Glee, unfortunately, or the wonderful movie, _Moulin Rouge!_. I wish I did. Sometimes. Well. All the time.  
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><p><strong>II. Under The "Sea"<strong>  
>Time Frame: Post-"New York"  Pairings: Klaine and hints of Finchel, Brittana and Puckleberry

_Just a simple one-shot in which Kurt teaches Blaine to swim  
>(and Rachel demands that Finn call her sexy)<br>_

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><p>"Blaine...?"<p>

"Yes?"

"Are you busy this Saturday?" Kurt asked, head on his boyfriend's lap as they watched a movie together (_Moulin Rouge!, _to be exact; it was one of Kurt's all-time favorites).

"Very busy with you," Blaine smirked, kissing Kurt's forehead. Rolling his eyes, Kurt stood up, picked up the DVD player remote, and paused just before Satine and Christian began to sing 'Elephant Love Medley.' Blaine's eyebrows rose as Kurt turned to face him excitedly.

"There is going to be a… a little _soiree_ at the Lima Community Pool on Saturday night."

Attempting to stifle his own laughter, Blaine choked out, "A _pool party_?"

Kurt looked absolutely taken aback by his boyfriend's response and sat down on the couch beside him again.

"Blaine, the Lima Community Pool holds this little party for the upcoming seniors each June. To be honest, I hate the smell of chlorine and how it makes my hair smell even after days of using Tresemmé, L'Oreal, Infusium 23, and other shampoos and conditioners, and my skin burning under the sun…but I digress. We're only upcoming seniors _once_, and I would love to spend the day with you at the pool, despite how corny and cliché the concept of a date to the pool sounds," Kurt blabbed, taking Blaine's hands in his. "So, what do you say?"

Blaine gave him a withering expression, folding his hands in his lap. "…The pool."

"What's your problem with the _pool_, Blaine?" Kurt asked tentatively, slightly scooting away from him. "Everyone will be there – Mercedes, Rachel, Finn, Sam, Quinn – you can even bring Wes and David over here so that everyone can socialize and whatnot."

"Wes and David wouldn't mind, I bet, but…"

"…But _what_, Blaine?"

"Never mind. I will go with you to that pool party," Blaine said finally. Still wondering what was up with Blaine and swimming pools, Kurt sighed.

"You will tell me what your problem with swimming pools, Blaine James Alexander Anderson."

"Thank you very much for using my full name against me, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Blaine replied surreptitiously, looking up at Kurt innocently—he knew Kurt would not give up without a fight. Blaine was determined to make him give up his grilling run. "I love it when you interrogate me, by the way."

Kurt grumbled, his face flushing slightly. "Don't play coy with me, Blaine."

"Koi fish can be found in Asia—specifically Japan. I think they sell them at the pet store near my house in Westerville," Blaine said, holding up a finger in a matter-of-factly motion. _Well, that was a stupid cover-up_. "How about we buy a pair and name them Ralph and Lauren? Oh, and I love you."

"…I love you, too. Despite that being cliché and amazingly cute, we are not talking about Asian fish," Kurt sighed, leaning on his shoulder and looking up at him. "Blaine, you seem to have a problem with public pools."

Blaine took one look at his boyfriend's bright blue-green eyes and groaned internally. Unfortunately, his only weaknesses in their arguments were Kurt's eyes and singing voice. In this situation—it were his eyes that tugged at his heartstrings. Keeping a mental note to learn how to resist puppy-dog eyes in arguments (which he hoped would never happen again), he looked at Kurt embarrassingly and muttered to himself – _he would save the rest of the truth for later _– "Okay. I admit it. I'm not a big fan of swimming pools in general. Remember the pool in my backyard? Yeah, I don't swim in it at all. Actually, I haven't swum in it since I was eight, to be honest. It's not exactly my best friend, and Kurt – I know you were expecting a more articulate answer or better explanation, but…"

"Did you nearly drown when you were eight?" Kurt asked bluntly, taking his head off of Blaine's shoulder. "Because I think you're tall enough to swim in the five foot section of the pool now, I think – or at least walk in it."

"It's not my height, and I'm 5'8"," Blaine mumbled, hurt. Kurt sighed and pressed his lips to Blaine's.

"I love your height. And I'm sorry for assuming."

"Thank you. But…the thing is…" Blaine began slowly, his face becoming redder, "I'm deathly afraid of the water. I'm aquaphobic, Kurt. Incredibly, admittedly so. I mean, I can deal with showers, baths and everything and can stay in a tub for a long time, but in large bodies of water, especially in pools and open ocean water, especially when the water goes up past my knees, it just…triggers all of these drowning fears. I just feel like it's going to sweep me up and—and…" He gulped, shuddering at the thought. "You must think I'm ridiculous. I'm sorry."

"Blaine, drop the dapper act. You don't need to say sorry, and no, you are not ridiculous at all. You want to see ridiculous?" Kurt laughed, pointing at himself. Blaine pulled Kurt closer to him by his and kissed his cheek in response.

"Whatever you say, Mister Hummel. You are no more ridiculous than I am."

"Say, you know how you went with me to prom to get over your…past?" Kurt began slowly. Blaine blinked. He knew where this was going. "How about we go to the pool this Saturday, and I teach you how to swim. It'll be fun!"

"Fun," Blaine said dully, letting go of Kurt quickly.

Kurt was determined to win this time. "Well…you can sit down on the beach chairs while I swim. As long as we go together, I don't mind."

"…I trust you."

Kurt jumped in his seat and hugged Blaine tightly, despite Blaine looking incredibly weary. It was going to be a very long Saturday afternoon.

"Now that we've come to a consensus, would you like to sing Christian's part of the medley?" Kurt asked politely, lying down on Blaine's lap again. Blaine nodded and smiled bemusedly as Kurt picked up the DVD player remote and pressed play.

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><p>"Local pools, the bane of my existence. Disgusting bathrooms, people walking around looking like cherries and such with no regards to their skin," Kurt said distastefully, adjusting his wayfarers with his bag-laden hand (full of proper conditioners, shampoos, and plenty of bottles of sunscreen), as he and Blaine stepped through the gates of Lima's community swimming pool. "I love a good challenge."<p>

Blaine gave him an incredulous look, but kept his hold on Kurt's hand. The pair walked to the admissions booth and showed their school IDs, and the lackadaisical-looking clerk merely waved them off and let them continue to the actual pool area, where they heard loud music blasting from the speakers and the sound of laughter echoing from the pool. Splashes were heard, as well. Blaine's grip on Kurt's hand tightened, and Kurt squeezed back gently, smiling at him. Blaine just knew that his eyes were comforting, despite him wearing sunglasses.

"You look adorable in pink sunglasses," Kurt said enthusiastically as they began to search for a pair of beach chairs to lounge in for the afternoon. Blaine laughed.

Blaine responded sweetly, "Why, thank you, Mister Hummel, but I say: you look wonderful yourself today."

Kurt blushed as they took their seats by the pool. Blaine grinned as Kurt placed his bags down by his chair and held onto the bottoms of his shirt. Kurt quickly pulled off his shirt, revealing a well toned, muscled torso and built arms. He took off his sunglasses and placed them on his chair, and gave Blaine a sly look (and ample time to look at him), and jumped into the pool, water splashing everywhere. Blaine jolted a little, but kept on laughing, remaining where he sat.

Members of the New Directions were there as well. He saw Rachel and Puck pass by together as they headed over towards the barbecue area (Blaine was well-aware that Rachel was a vegan, so he assumed she would merely eat a veggie burger), and he saw Finn enter, looking awkward as ever. Kurt had offered him a ride in the Navigator, but Finn immediately rejected his offer, saying that it would be better if Kurt and Blaine had gone ahead since they were dating. Blaine attributed this abnormal, un-Finn like-behavior (since he usually didn't mind being in the same car as Blaine and Kurt 90 percent of the time; the other 10 percent of the time he wasn't in the car was when the boys were making out) to the fact that he was bitter at the fact that Rachel had gone with Noah Puckerman instead of him. Mercedes and Sam followed, with Tina, Mike, Brittany, Santana, Lauren, and other students entering the pool as well.

"Blaine, you're missing out on all the fun," Kurt pouted, leaning on the edge of the pool. Blaine leaned forward and their noses touched.

"I _am _having fun," he whispered, and kissed Kurt's chlorine-tasting forehead. He sat back in his chair and continued to watch Kurt swim around near him. There were other people in the pool, but they paid no attention to the couple, which they thought was best. "I may not say this often, but you look incredibly sexy."

Flushing a dark shade of red, Kurt smiled and ducked under the water with a splash, getting Blaine's face wet. Blaine saw his boyfriend's figure retreating to the deeper part of the pool. Sighing, he went back to sit on their beach chairs.

"Hey, it's Dolphin Two!" an airy, familiar voice exclaimed. Blaine turned around and waved to Brittany Pierce, who was walking arm-in-arm with Santana Lopez.

"Hi, Britt," he smiled serenely.

"San, I thought he goes to Dalton?" Brittany asked confusedly, blinking.

"Kurt probably brought him," Santana smirked, rolling her eyes. "What's good, hobbit Warbler?"

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me hobbit, and my last name is Anderson, but everything is fine. How about you?"

"No, I like that nickname. Unfortunately, as long as you're with Kurt, I'll be calling you that. Otherwise I'd call you something else very snarky and bitchy, especially since you're technically our glee club competition," Santana shrugged, "Unless you transfer. Then the 'Warbler' is dropped."

"I've been thinking about it," Blaine mused. "Are you guys going to swim?"

"Of course. Aren't you?" Brittany laughed. Blaine shook his head. "What? I thought all dolphins swim?"

"Britt…" Santana rolled her eyes. "Come on let's go. I'm hungry. Clearly hobbit doesn't want to talk. He's probably too busy eye-fucking Kurt and having little fantasies about his little boyf—"

"Bye, Santana, I hope to see you guys around," Blaine said warily, turning red again. Santana gave him a sly smile and dragged Brittany over to the barbecue area.

"Bye, dolphin!" Brittany shouted. Blaine huffed and sat up in his seat. He watched Kurt as he gracefully swam through the pool, talking to some friends from school. He saw his _boyfriend _talk animatedly to Mercedes and Tina, who had just entered the pool. Hands waving, hair matted down and looking pasted to his head so adorably, his blue-green eyes shining. Looking, as he ridiculously said earlier, '_sexy'_.

Basically, Blaine Anderson was jealous.

He hated that he was so scared to swim, so scared to even dip his feet in the pool. So, he decided to take a leap of faith. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his shirt off, put his sunglasses on his seat, and walked towards the edge of the pool. He touched his foot to the edge of the water. It was cold. The mere touch made shivers run up his spine, and his hair stand on end.

"Hey! Kurt's boyf! Anderson, need some assistance?"

"NOAH, NO!"

"_PUCK!"_

That was when Puck was feeling generous, and pushed Blaine into the pool. Into the six-feet-and-three-inches deep section.

The impact of the water touching his skin was a nightmare. He was completely submerged, and was flailing for dear life under water. In an attempt to open his eyes, all he saw was _blue. _Tile and _blue. _Water, everywhere, water eating him up, and to no avail, the chlorine was stinging his eyes madly. He couldn't breathe. He thought in panic, _goodbye, cruel world, I love you Kurt, I love you_, and the simple image of Kurt's face appeared in his mind, for what he seemed like the last time—the water was flooding up his lungs, his ears, his everything—his eyesight was beginning to blur, and it was just like when he was eight years old all over again…

The next thing he knew, he was being dragged to the surface by two, long, pale arms. He gasped for air as his face broke into the surface, the sunlight beating down on his face. He felt more hands push him up to the pool deck, and his hands felt as if they were burning against the hot metal of the pool drains as he grabbed a hold of the top.

"_BLAINE JAMES ANDERSON_!" he heard Kurt's voice cry out. Blaine blinked, his eyes still burning from the chlorine. Kurt knelt down next to his boyfriend and held him in his arms. "Oh my god, what on earth happened?"

"Kurt, I'm so sorry—" Blaine heard Puck exclaim—

"—_He doesn't know how to swim! He's afraid of the water!_" Kurt bellowed, his voice choking. Blaine attempted to sit up, and another helpful person handed him a towel. "Blaine, speak to me, Blaine, oh my god, oh my Gaga—I will _kill _you, Noah Puckerman! MERCEDES, HE'S NOT TALKING!"

"Calm down, boo—" Mercedes said calmly, but Kurt cut her off.

"I WILL KILL YOU, PUCKERMAN!"

"_Kurt!_" Mercedes shouted, pointing to Blaine, whose eyes were fluttering open.

"Kurt," Blaine said hoarsely.

"DON'T YOU SEE? HE'S NOT TALKING!" Kurt sobbed. "Someone call the paramedics!"

"KURT E. HUMMEL, LOOK AT YOUR MAN," Mercedes shouted, grabbing Kurt by his shoulders. Kurt looked down at his boyfriend.

"Um, Kurt…" Blaine mumbled. Kurt's sobs seized immediately, and the taller boy looked down at the obviously alive boy lying on his lap. Kurt hugged Blaine tightly and kissed his forehead. "Ow, Kurt, you're hugging me too tight—"

"Is there anything wrong here?" Blaine looked to his right and saw a lifeguard making his way toward them. Kurt shook his head fervently and shooed him away. "Well…I heard a commotion…"

"He's fine. Perfectly fine," Kurt said in a high voice and then the lifeguard walked away, affronted.

"Dude, I'm so sorry, I didn't know," Puck groaned, kneeling besides Kurt and Blaine. Rachel was standing behind him, looking livid.

"You are so stupid, Noah," she snapped, hitting him up side his head.

"What? I said I'm sorry!" Puck exclaimed, frowning.

"It's okay, you didn't know," Blaine grumbled, sitting up. Kurt pushed his boyfriend back down on his lap.

"You are going nowhere. I am staying with you here until—"

"Can you guys teach me how to swim?" Blaine asked all of a sudden. Puck, Rachel, Mercedes, and Kurt stared at him. "I know I just had a near-drowning experience, but to be honest, I'd like to be over my silly little irrational fear."

"Don't call it that," Kurt scowled.

"My…fear, then," he sighed.

"Why would you trust me? I just pushed you into the damn pool," Puck snorted.

"Think of it as…well, an easy apology."

Puck shrugged. "Fine with me. Let's go, shorty."

"No," Kurt said bluntly, folding his arms. "After you nearly drowned? No way, Blaine, you are not going back in there. There is no way I'm letting you back into the water. You know what? I was crazy for forcing you to come with me. Let's go." He stood up and held out a hand to his boyfriend, frowning. Blaine looked at Kurt, pouting.

"Kurt, I want this," he mumbled. Kurt blanched. "I want to swim with you."

Kurt muttered something incoherent, and his shoulder slumped. "Fine. I'm getting Finn to help out, too. And we better make this quick. My skin feels a tad bit hot."

"Are you sure it's the sun?" Puck snorted. Kurt glared at him.

"Positive," he blushed. Blaine smirked, took Kurt's hand and stood up. He felt a bit woozy, seeing the pool before him, but he took a deep breath, and walked around to the other side of the area with his friends…to the kiddie pool.

"Okay, so I told you guys I wanted to learn how to swim, but…aren't there too many kids here?" Blaine flushed, staring at the three-feet tall children's pool. Indeed there were a number of children swimming here.

"Right. Too shallow," Kurt and Rachel muttered. They both grabbed him by his arms and led him over to the five-feet area.

"Okay…um, well, uh," Blaine spluttered.

"Do you want to learn, or not?" Kurt asked. "Dear sweet baby Jesus, Blaine, I'm not forcing you or anything, but—"

"I'm going to do this," Blaine grumbled.

"Are you sure, Warbler?" Rachel asked, her eyebrows rising. She was looking at him sternly, her arms folded now.

"HEY, RACHEL!" a loud voice called out. Before Rachel could turn around, a figure swept her off of her feet, and threw her into the deeper section. Spluttering, Rachel resurfaced, pissed off and looking for her offender. Finn was standing by the edge of the pool, now next to Blaine and Kurt. Puck was already gone by the time Finn arrived, and Mercedes had disappeared.

"FINN HUDSON! I TOLD YOU, I WASN'T GOING TO TALK TO YOU EVER AGAIN!" she said shrilly. Some people in the pool rolled their eyes and swam away from her.

"I think we should just start," Kurt muttered, leading Blaine to the pool ladder. Kurt went down into the water first, and held his hands out to Blaine, who hesitantly took one step into the water.

"I'm so sorry, Rach!" Finn pleaded, jumping into the pool and swimming towards her.

"What exactly happened?" Blaine asked as he gripped the sides of the ladder tightly, the balls of his feet already in the water. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Something about Finn not thinking she was 'sexy' or something. It was a stupid argument. So, again, she went with Puck. Same old story, except she didn't make out with Puck this time."

Blaine took a deep breath. The water submerging his feet felt horrid, but he kept on going. He was finally waist-deep, still gripping the ladder, and he felt Kurt wrap his arms around his waist.

"Don't worry, I've got you, babe," Kurt said softly. Blaine finally made it into the pool, and the water was merely up to his torso, but he was still panicking and his heart was hammering madly. "Shhh, it's okay. Calm down."

Blaine gulped, but felt more at ease with Kurt beside him. He could still hear Finn and Rachel's shouting match from the deep-end ("_Excuse me, _Finn, I didn't ask for your apology, or your people-throwing skills!" "Well, I'm really sorry, Rachel, and it just came out! I didn't mean to say you weren't sexy, I mean—" "Oh my god, Finn, just shut up!"), but tried to ignore it in order to calm down. He felt Kurt's hands move up to his shoulders.

"Are you feeling better?" Kurt said softly, touching his forehead to Blaine's. Blaine smiled and nodded. "That's good. Okay, Blaine, before I teach you how to float and whatnot, let's walk around the pool so you can get the feel of it all." Blaine nodded again.

"Thank you, Kurt," Blaine mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't say sorry. And if I don't finish teaching you today, we can always come back here once a week, and I'll give you lessons, free of charge."

"How about…we just…walk around the water, first?" Blaine whispered. Kurt shrugged.

"As I said, let's get the feel of it first," he winked, and they proceeded to walk around the pool. They looked back to the crazy thing Kurt newly dubbed the 'Finchel Fiasco' and saw them still shouting at each other.

"I challenge you to a game of chicken!" Rachel shouted. She called Puck over, and he waved sheepishly towards Finn, who was fuming. Finn looked around, and gestured for Brittany to come over.

Kurt snorted when he saw Rachel mount herself on Puck's shoulders, and Brittany on Finn's. Santana jumped into the pool as well, and remained behind Puck and Rachel, lounging on the edge of the pool. Then, they began their little chicken fight. Kurt knew exactly what was running through Santana's mind when the young Latina swam quickly and quietly behind Puck and Rachel, and she yanked at Rachel's bikini, which fell off.

Rachel immediately covered herself, and Puck, taken aback, accidentally dropped her into the pool. Finn's eyes widened and let Brittany off, hurrying towards his girlfriend.

"Rachel! Rachel!" he exclaimed. Santana was laughing madly, and so was everyone around the pool.

"Oh, how I love my friends," Kurt muttered sarcastically, to Blaine's laughs. "Hold on, I'm going to do some damage control."

Blaine remained where he stood, and felt more at ease. He watched as Kurt made his way towards his friends and saw him grab a hold of Rachel's bikini top, handing it to her. Strangely enough, Rachel was laughing as well.

_What a Saturday, _he mused. Kurt swam back to him and pecked him on the lips quickly while the Finchel Fiasco distracted everyone.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Much better. You know, Kurt, I love you. Thank you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Time: <strong>Cabaret!Klaine, an AU in which a very reluctant Blaine Anderson is dragged to the best cabaret in town by his two best friends, Wes and David. The girls don't catch his eye. A young, blue-eyed waiter does.

Reviews are welcome. Thanks!

Love,

Sam


	3. A Night at the Cabaret

_Wow, sorry I haven't been constant updating this, so here you go, lovely readers! An AU-take of how Blaine and Kurt could have met. There are some little changes and whatnot, like Dalton becoming an all-male college. This takes place in what would be Blaine and Kurt's freshman year at college. _

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Glee. If I did, then it wouldn't be awesome. __  
><em>

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><p><strong>III. A Night at the Cabaret<br>**Setting: Alternate universe, still set in Ohio: Burlesque!Klaine / Pairings: Klaine, with very little hints & mentions of Weschel and Quick

_"We could have met in another time, another place."  
>Blaine Anderson didn't expect anything to come out of his friends' weekend visits to the Cabrevans.<br>_

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><p>Blaine Anderson hated weekend "hangouts" at the cabarets.<p>

That was why he partially dreaded Fridays. Wes and David, his best friends (though he didn't quite understand how they forged such a strong and quirky friendship), were always insisting that he, Blaine, go with them to watch very attractive girls dance scantily-clad on a tiny stage as they (the boys) drank and reveled in the curves and lingerie exposed by the girls who were singing old show tunes in a very seductive manner.

Blaine always had to remind them that he was capital-_G_-gay. But, they insisted that he accompany them just in case they were too drunk to drive back to the Dalton University campus. Blaine always obliged, though he never understood why. He loved his friends, though, despite their incessant need for '_live porn_' as he would always scoff and say whenever his insane group of friends mentioned the cabarets.

Wes and David weren't the only means by which he was exposed to the world of the burlesque. At Dalton, it was deemed a "right of passage" for the boys to visit _these _places. One would start going during the second week of the first semester and bring back a "souvenir" of sorts, such as a piece of the clothing from one of the girls who performed. During his freshman year, Blaine quietly admitted to the girl who tried to 'entertain' him that he was gay, so she shrugged, and merely gave him a smile and a brand new piece of underwear to take back to school. Of course, he disposed of it quickly after showing his dorm mates. He didn't want to ruin his clean record and impeccably wonderful reputation at the university: he was a Dean's A-Lister, after all.

Unfortunately, some of the boys at the school found these shows an addiction. And some of _these _boys were Blaine's friends: Wes Nguyen-Montgomery, David Benetton, Thad Johnson, Nick Steeves, and Jeff Walker. They would all sneak off-campus past curfew in the car of another friend from another school. Most of the time, their friends from the McKinley Community College in Lima would take them—more specifically their friend, Sam Evans, who was perfectly close with the new manager of the cabaret. The manager was Sam Evans' uncle.

That Friday night, Blaine, Wes, David, Thad, Nick, and Jeff were lucky enough to get Sam as their driver. They had to sneak out the way they always did: through Dalton's back-entrances. They would do so by leaving their dorm rooms one at a time in order to avoid anyone seeing them leave so late. If a DA caught one of them, he would use the excuse of visiting another dorm or sitting in the college garden behind the main building, and then run off. That was the one thing they hated about Dalton: because of the university's reputation, they had a curfew.

They all made it out of the dorm building in once piece, and hurried to get into Sam Evans' car.

"I wonder what's going to happen tonight?" Wes asked excitedly, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

"What happens every Friday night, Wes? You get laid," Nick joked, to everyone's collective laughter.

"I do _not_," Wes scoffed. "I respect that Rachel Berry girl too much to do anything rash to her!"

"Rachel?" Sam asked curiously from behind the wheel. "The one who always wears that gold star beret?"

"The very same," Wes said smugly. "Gorgeous, isn't she? And she's got the voice of an angel."

Nick turned to face Wes with an incredulous look. "Hell no. Quinn, man. Quinnie's the one you must be talking about. Now _there's _a girl with a set of pipes for burlesque and old tunes."

"Just because you like Frank Sinatra and you saw Quinnie wearing nothing but a lacy corset and fishnet stockings with bright red heels while singing 'Fly Me To The Moon' doesn't mean she's the best," Wes said indignantly. Nick punched his shoulder gently, pouting.

Sam smirked. "You're too late on dibs for Quinn, Nick. Our good ol' friend, Noah Puckerman, already reserved her for tonight. And you know how Puckerman gets when his girls are taken from him."

"Goddamn it," Nick muttered.

Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Oh, god, you guys better not die of alcohol poisoning or by any other means, because I don't want to be the one explaining everything to Professor Richter. I don't want to tell him that all of you were dramatically killed by women in furry boas," he warned jokingly.

"Don't be such a killjoy," David groaned, slapping his best friend on the back. "We're not planning to get that wasted."

"Ha," Blaine smirked. "We'll see about that."

Wes adjusted himself to face Blaine. "Burlesque is art, Blaine. Art in motion," he explained emphatically. Blaine attempted to stifle his laughter.

"It's exhibitionism."

"You mock us, sir," Thad said loudly, making everyone in the car jump. Nick, David, Wes and Jeff nodded in agreement.

Jeff moved his blonde bangs out of his eyes. "Sometimes, Blaine, you act like you're our mom."

"But your mom doesn't know you all sneak off to cabarets," Blaine countered, winking.

"My older sister counts, right?" Nick smirked. "She slapped me once because of it, but I honestly don't care."

"…No."

"We're here!" Sam exclaimed, slowing the car down as they arrived at a seemingly small, abandoned-looking building.

The Evans Cabaret was an underground one on the outskirts of Westerville, Ohio, somewhere near Lima. Chad Evans, Sam's uncle, had a strange obsession with the burlesque (just like Wes, he called it 'art in motion') and co-opened The Cabaret (also known more recently as 'Cabrevans') with his good friend Jimmy Knox. When Jimmy died several years ago, Chad took over and hoped to put Sam in charge one day since he had no children himself.

"Fuck yes, finally!" Jeff exclaimed.

"I was getting tired of sitting in a car with horny men," Blaine sniggered, rolling his eyes.

As soon as Sam parked the car, the boys hurried down the front door, and soon the bass of the club could be heard down below. A bouncer stood at the door, appraised the boys quickly, and then let them in. They were regular, albeit underage, paying customers, after all.

The club was wide and spacious, complete with back rooms and intricately decorated tables. There were already dozens of men and women alike there; some were there to appreciate the art of burlesque—and some were there to have their own, private "shows". The Dalton boys made their way quickly to their designated table near the back as Sam went to meet with his own good friends, and they all were utterly excited for the show to begin.

Except for Blaine, of course. He leaned back in his seat sheepishly, arms folded. He said his customary hellos to their friends from McKinley Community: Noah Puckerman, Artie Abrams, Mike Chang, and Matt Rutherford, and continued to look at his watch as his friends talked about the previous week's performances.

"Excuse me, boys: what'll you have?" a high, clear voice rang out. The boys ignored the waiter. Blaine looked up, and found that he was gaping at who happened to be the most incredibly handsome boy he'd ever seen.

Their waiter, who was dressed in a white buttoned-down shirt, black slacks, a red bowtie, and black apron, was _beautiful_. He was tall and thin, but underneath that shirt, Blaine could tell that his arms were made of pure muscle. His skin practically _radiated _in the dim light of the cabaret, and Blaine swore that his eyes were the most perfect shade of sea blue-green.

Plus, he didn't look a year over eighteen, or nineteen at the oldest.

"Um. Sir," the waiter said indignantly. "What'll you all have?"

"Blaine, you stupid idiot," David exclaimed, making Blaine snap out of his stupor. "I'll have a lime margarita. My buddy Wesley'll take the strawberry vodka, Nick and Jeff—they'll take tequila sunrise, and Thad will get a good old Heineken. The idiot will take a glass of—"

"Iced tea, thank you very much, David," Blaine snapped. The waiter gave them a bemused smile as he took down all of their orders, and sighed.

"Anything else?" he asked in the same, high, beautiful voice. The boys ignored him, and he rolled his eyes, and turned around to walk back to the bar. Blaine pushed out his seat and began to stand up when the speakers began to blast, and the lights dimmed, spotlights dancing around the room like ghosts. The crowd in the cabaret cheered. Rolling his eyes, Blaine took the chance and hurried over to the bar, whose stools were all vacated. He sat down and watched as the waiter talked to a tall, dark-haired man, who Blaine assumed to be the bartender. He usually never paid attention.

"S-Vodka, glass of Heineken, two tequila sunrises, lime margarita. I'll handle the iced tea," he told the man, who nodded and hurried over to start preparing the drinks. The waiter turned around and saw Blaine there, and his right eyebrow quirked curiously. "Yes, sir?"

"I…uh," Blaine stuttered. _Oh, shit, why am I here again? Oh. Uh. _"My name is Blaine."

The boy smiled warmly and held out a hand uncertainly. "Kurt."

"Not to be rude, Mister Blaine, but it seems that the show has started," he said loudly as Rachel Berry stepped on-stage with nothing but a corset, fishnets, and heels, and her signature gold-star beret pinning her bangs back. "You might wanna go back and sit with your friends."

"I'm not one for these raunchy shows," Blaine admitted, laughing. Kurt smiled again.

"Let me guess: gay?"

Blaine was slightly taken aback, but he answered with a sly grin. "You guessed correctly, good sir. Gay as the Fourth of July."

Kurt leaned against the counter, and looked at Blaine with a curious expression. "I have an excellent gaydar, as _I _am, myself."

Blaine's heart leapt. "I see."

"So what are you doing here, then, since you're obviously not interested in the _dazzling _world of burlesque?" Kurt questioned, picking up a glass from under the counter and wiped it with a spare white cloth. "And you all look way too young to be going to these places."

"May I point out that you look not a day above eighteen?"

Kurt held a finger up to his lips. "No one's supposed to know that. I had to get the job, along with my annoying stepbrother—" he pointed towards the tall, lumbering bartender "—so that we can raise money for college. I took a year off after I graduated last year, because I want to go to New York, but I haven't got the money. Finn, my stepbrother, he wants to go UC Berkeley. We faked our ages. Our dad thinks we work at a diner. Honestly, this was the only job that would accept the both of us, and this is practically our first Friday night. But I digress. Why the hell am I telling you all of this?" he laughed weakly, standing up, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

"I don't mind. Honestly, I'd rather talk to someone than watch this all night. I mean, once was enough," Blaine laughed quietly. Kurt gave him an appreciative look.

"What's your story, Buckeye? OSU, I presume?"

"Dalton, but I'm all for the Buckeyes."

"Ah. Cabrevans' best customers: the Dalton boys," he said in a withering voice. "Why did you guys pick this dump, anyway?"

"School tradition," Blaine muttered. "Don't ask."

"Some tradition," Kurt scoffed, grinning.

"Yo, Kurt!" Finn called, sliding drinks down the table. Kurt immediately stood up, and caught each glass with precision, and set them up on an empty, circular tray.

"Gotta deliver these to your buddies over there," Kurt pointed at the Dalton table. Blaine rolled his eyes as his friends were nearly off the edge of their seats as Rachel Berry broke out into _Diamonds are a Girls' Best Friend_ with Quinnie Fabray and Santana Lopez in tow. "But here's your iced tea, Buckeye," he said, handing Blaine his glass. Blaine took it and toasted.

He watched as Kurt walked with grace towards his friends, who took their drinks eagerly. Kurt quickly took orders from another table, and hurried back to the bar, shouted the orders back at Finn, who worked quickly with the bottles.

"You have very frisky friends," Kurt laughed, bemused. "You know, Buckeye, you surprised me when you didn't order an alcoholic drink."

"I'm obstinately straight-edge. Waiting until I'm legal," Blaine said with faux pride.

"If you're waiting until you're legal, then you're not straight-edge," Kurt guffawed, his laugh tinkling. "The point of straight-edge is to not drink at all or take any drugs and whatnot."

Blaine face-palmed himself. "Sorry, wrong wording. Truth is, I'm their designated friend. Sam doesn't drink, either, so we can get them back to the University safely."

"Sam never drinks, I heard," Kurt shrugged. "He's a nice guy. His hair is obviously dyed, though."

"Yeah, I noticed that, too. His roots are a bit obvious."

Kurt stared at him. "Your gay is showing, Mister Buckeye," he said with a laugh.

Blaine blushed, but it wasn't visible in the dim light. Kurt punched his shoulder lightly.

"Don't worry about it. It's…It's…well, I have to admit, it's nice to have someone…like me, to talk to."

Blaine nodded fervently. "I agree. You're pretty alright, Kurt."

"You too, Blaine. Say, what else do you do besides being a designated friend?" he joked.

"I'm a part-time musician."

"So am I."

Blaine's eyes lit up. "What do you play?"

"The piano, and…my voice, if you consider that an instrument. I'm a counter-tenor," Kurt mumbled, blushing.

"A counter-tenor! That's amazing! What notes can you reach?" Blaine asked curiously.

"A high F."

"Damn," Blaine whistled. "I play the piano, guitar, ukulele, violin, and I sing, as well."

"Are you involved in Dalton's acapella group?"

"Yeah, the Warblers. We do state tours and whatnot each summer when we have enough money to do so."

"I would assume, since Dalton is a private university, that they'd most definitely have enough money each summer," Kurt said sneakily, laughing. Blaine blushed and laughed along with him. "Sorry. Wasn't my place to say that. Hold on, gonna get the latest order."

Again, Finn slid the drinks to Kurt, who caught them agilely once more, and he rushed to bring the drinks over to the table next to the Dalton one. Kurt hurried back, breathless.

"I'm sorry, I'm bothering you," Blaine said nervously, noting Kurt's tired expression. "You...you should get back to work."

Kurt quirked his eyebrows and gave Blaine a soft expression. "You're not. Thanks for talking to me, by the way. Haven't had anyone but Finn to talk to in a while," he said in a small voice.

"Neither have I...I mean, someone, like, uh, _me_ to talk to," Blaine responded to a warm smile from Kurt. "And...uh, Kurt, if you don't mind me asking, why do you want to go to New York?"

"You might think I'm crazy, but," Kurt began, lowering his voice so only Blaine could hear, "I want to be on Broadway."

Blaine nodded. "You've got a big dream there, mister."

"Yeah, I've been told, but I really do think I can make it if I just earn some more money," Kurt sighed, pulling a cloth out of his pocket. He started to wipe the bar counter roughly. "I just want to get out of this cow town and _that_," he said, pointing towards the stage. "Burlesque is an art, but not to these people here, and I don't think anyone wants to see me shimmying across that stage, scantily-clad."

"Well, I think you can do it," Blaine said sincerely.

Kurt paused wiping the counter and looked up at Blaine. Their eyes met for a brief second.

"YO, BLAINE!" Jeff shouted from the Dalton table. Blaine turned around, breaking eye contact with Kurt, who blushed and immediately went back to wiping the counter. "Come here! Help up David, I think he's passed out!"

Blaine sighed and turned to Kurt. "So...I'll see you around?"

Kurt nodded fervently.

"Do you have a cell phone number?" Blaine asked quickly, pulling out his iPhone. Kurt looked at him dejectedly.

"No, I don't have a cell phone," he mumbled, obviously embarrassed.

"So...I'll see you next week."

Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah."

"Nice meeting you, Kurt."

"You too, Blaine."

* * *

><p><strong>SOOOO. <strong>Now that's done, now I'm going to accept any and all prompts for future chapters! Tell me what you think and _please, please _leave a review! I'd appreciate it!

I was thinking of making this specific one-shot a full story, but...I'll leave the rest to your imagination. Sorry if it was lame to you!

All prompts can be left on my ask box on Tumblr: littlewizardmusings is my username. Thanks and much love!

Love,  
>Sam<p> 


	4. Gleekity McLink Larkin

_So, I have decided to start writing shorter one-shots so that this story will be updated more often. __This (really short) drabble was based off of the newly-released yearbook photos of the Glee cast, and I let out a little gigglesnort when __I saw Darren as Blaine in the grey, striped cardigan. So, this is basically Kurt's reaction. It's short, sweet, and sugar-coated with fluff, because I haven't written fluff in ages. _

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own _Glee_ because I...I just don't._

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><p><strong>IV. Gleekity McLink Larkin<br>**Setting: Season 3, day two of school, after Blaine's transfer / Pairing(s): Klaine

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><p>Kurt Hummel had to admit: he was the king of fashion at William McKinley High School. Everything he wore looked amazing on him, and he knew <em>exactly <em>what he wanted to wear, and _how _to wear it. When Blaine transferred to WMHS, this gave him the opportunity to continue to look his best in order to please the un-please-able student body _and _his adoring boyfriend.

Blaine Anderson, unfortunately, attempted to do this himself, and to Kurt's chagrin, failed…as Finn would say, "_epicly_." They were by Kurt's locker when this event, which Kurt would later call "The Blaine _Hairspray _Train Wreck Extravaganza (TM)" occurred. Kurt was busy putting his things into his locker and applying a moisturizing cream to his face.

"Good morning, handsome."

Kurt smiled as a pair of soft, pink lips kissed his cheek, and then he turned around to face his boyfriend. "Good morning to you too, Bl—"

The big smile on his face immediately wilted.

"Blaine, what on _earth _are you wearing?" he asked, shocked. Kurt stared at his boyfriend; his eyes bulging and mouth agape. Said boyfriend, Blaine Anderson, stood before him with a confused look on his face.

"What? I'm wearing normal clothes."

"Blaine, those clothes were normal in the _fifties_."

Blaine Anderson, did, indeed, look as if he came out of a bad performance of_ Welcome To The Sixties _from _Hairspray_. He was wearing lightly checkered, grey high-water pants, a white, buttoned-down shirt, black bowtie, and a striped, grey and white cardigan. His hair was, as always, gelled to the point that his hair looked like brick, and he carried a dark messenger bag. The thing, however, that irritated Kurt the most were his black loafers.

"But I saw this in a men's fashion magazine," Blaine frowned. Kurt took his hand and led him to the boys' bathroom, not forgetting to slam his locker shut. The two boys stood in front of a mirror.

"Blaine, I love you very much, and I know this may sound a bit unnerving to you, but…_what on earth are you wearing? _Let me repeat that again: what are you wearing? Hon, you look like you went through your grandfather's closet. Not that it's a bad thing, I mean, it's very cute, but—"

"—This is all I have," Blaine blinked, still perplexed. "I told you, I read a magazine. I can show you the issue; I have it in my bag!" he said brightly, opening his bag and taking out an old issue of _GQ_.

"Honey, this was from years ago." Kurt snorted, trying to suppress his laughter.

Blaine groaned and leaned on the sink, blushing furiously. "Shit, well, ugh. I'm so stupid," he whimpered. "Oh, god, I don't know how I'm going to survive this school year. I was cooped up in that Dalton blazer for far too long. I guess I forgot how to…uhm…dress."

Kurt rubbed his back. "How about…I take you shopping after school?"

"Please do. I was wondering why those hockey guys were snickering at me this morning."

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><p>Later that day, on his way to Glee Club, Kurt poked his head over the sea of students roaming about the hallways, looking for Blaine everywhere. <em>Oh no, where is he? <em>Kurt thought to himself, panicking. _This is only his second day, and he was supposed to meet me here and—_

He heard a loud splash behind him, and someone shout "Haha, welcome to McKinley, Gleekity McLink Larkin!" Kurt spun around, and saw a slushie-covered Blaine standing in the middle of the hallway, eyes shut, and spitting out whatever slushie got into his mouth.

"Oh, god, it's like being bitch-slapped by an iceberg," Blaine said furiously. Kurt sighed deeply and guided Blaine towards the men's room again.

"Don't have butt-sex in there, lady boys!" they heard one of the hockey boys shout from the top of the stairs.

"Well, fuck you!" Kurt shouted back. They went into the bathroom and Kurt helped Blaine clean up.

"Why the hell do they do this to you guys?" Blaine spluttered as he splashed water on his face. Kurt pulled a towel out of his bag and helped his boyfriend wipe his face off.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of public school, Blaine Warbler," Kurt laughed. Blaine smiled, but his eye stung, and he winced. "Yuck, you got slushied with blueberry. That's the worst. When it gets in your eyes, it takes forever to get the corn syrup out."

"Yeah, I can tell. We really need to go on this shopping trip. I don't think I'll be able to stand another person calling me 'Gleekity McLink Larkin'."

"But Link Larkin was the hottest guy in Baltimore," Kurt said adamantly, winking. Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's lips. "It's true, though."

"So, you are implying that I am, as you so duly noted, '_hot_.'"

"Don't let it go to your head," Kurt laughed. "Hey, all of your gel is out!"

Blaine stared in horror at the mirror as his loose, damp curls stuck out all over the place. "Oh no," he moaned.

"I think I have an extra set of jeans and a shirt you can borrow," Kurt nodded, appraising his boyfriend. "It will look good with your curls, and they're your size because I knew this would happen." Blaine gave him a sly look and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Kurt. Did you know that I love you?"

"Of course," Kurt replied slyly. "Come on, Link Larkin, let's get you dressed."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Whee, please leave a review! I love reviews. You know how makeovers are like crack to Kurt? Well, they are like crack to me. Just kidding, I love reviews. If you want to leave one, go ahead! I'd love it.

If you want the one-shots to_ be longer_, let me know! Pardon the super-cheese of this one. I wrote it in ten minutes. Because I was bored. And reading _Hamlet_. Even though I do love _Hamlet_.

Love,  
>Sam<p> 


	5. A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love

_Welp. I should be updating INGTH and WPP, I really should. But school has been biting me in the ass, so I only have time for drabbles and one-shots right now. I apologize profusely for the delay for both stories. _

_This one-shot was supposed to be a part of a Glee!Hogwarts collaboration with aftermecomesthefloods (Lily, my Blainers) and pleasebeworthit (on Tumblr - my love, Hayley), but it totally ended up not being a part of our canon. AGH. _

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee, Harry Potter, or Katy Perry's _Teenage Dream_.

ALSO I SHOULD NEVER POST THINGS AT TWO IN THE MORNING, SO SORRY IF THIS SUCKS.

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><p><strong>V. A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love<br>**Setting: Alternate Universe, Hogwarts!Klaine / Pairing(s): Klaine

_"Dear Mister Hummel: Due to your circumstances and past events, you have been accepted as a transfer student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on September 1."_

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><p>Kurt sighed, looking around the train compartments, his Marc Jacobs bag slung over his right shoulder. Several Hogwartians were giving him interested looks—some girls did, to his amusement (<em>If only I were wearing what I normally wear)<em>—so he uncomfortably turned around and headed back down the way he started. He was even afraid to speak—they would probably think his high-pitched voice and American accent peculiar—something he hadn't feared since his second day of Little Wizard Preschool back in Ohio.

The train lurched forward, and Kurt grabbed a hold of a compartment door quickly—a reflex—and fell over, pulling the door open with him. _Damn it_, he thought irritably, shooting back up immediately, regaining his stiff bearing. The students in the compartment stared at him curiously, and he flushed red as he muttered a 'sorry' and continued down the aisle. _I'm never going to find a place to sit_, he thought miserably. Kurt peeked into more compartments—they were all full. _Jeez, for a famous magical academy, they don't have enough places for their students to sit to actually _get _there._

Sighing, he resorted to standing in the middle of the train corridor awkwardly, occasionally stepping aside so that people could pass through. For the first few minutes of the actual train ride, he flipped through the copy of _Vogue _he brought along for the ride and dodged a wayward charm that flitted through the air in a flurry of golden sparks. There were times that he had to balance himself like a surfing Muggle whenever the train gathered speed. Oh, how his friends back at The Ohio Academy for Magic would laugh if they saw him, Kurt E. Hummel, in a situation like this.

That was when he had enough of standing in the damn corridor. Kurt slammed his magazine shut and restarted his search for a proper compartment to sit and sleep in. He was still very jet-lagged; he missed the Ohio time zone. Several students began walking around the corridors to stretch their legs, already in their robes as well. He took a chance and tapped the shoulder of one of the boys passing by him.

"Uhm, excuse me, I'm new here—"

He met a pair of bright, hazel-green eyes, and a head of gelled-down black hair. A very handsome young man, probably an inch or two shorter, stood before him, grinning broadly. For a brief second, Kurt nearly lost his bearing.

"My name is Blaine." Blaine extended a tanned hand towards him.

Kurt bit his lip and responded, shaking his hand and letting go quickly. _Oh my god, his hands are soft._ "—Kurt. Do you happen to know if there are any open compartments I can sit in? I've been standing here for the better half of an hour, and I really need somewhere to sit."

Blaine gave him a small chuckle. "You can sit with my friends and I. We've got plenty of space! If I had seen you earlier, I would have brought you there straight away!"

Kurt gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I don't usually sound this…desperate. You see, I'm a transfer student from the United States—"

"—That's awesome!" Blaine exclaimed. "Well, I figured that out from your accent, and the fact that your uniform has no House patch on it yet…come on. Let's get you situated."

Kurt was caught by surprise when Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him down the corridor. He had to catch his breath and fight back a small squeal as the handsome boy brought him to a compartment near the back of the train.

"Well, here we are!"

Blaine opened the compartment door, revealing a group of two boys and a girl.

"Wes, David, Rachel, this is Kurt. He's a transfer student from the United States," Blaine announced, revealing Kurt, who waved shyly from behind.

"Oooh, the U.S.A.?" the girl, Rachel, asked, obviously interested. "I was born there, but raised here, in the U.K."

Blaine led Kurt in and they sat down; Blaine by an Asian boy (either Wes or David, he would find out eventually), and Kurt by Rachel.

"My name is Wes," the Asian boy said, nodding stiffly, holding out his hand, smiling. Kurt shook it.

"David," the other boy grinned, shaking Kurt's hand as well.

"Obviously, I'm Rachel Berry, star of Hogwarts' elite Show Choir run by Professors Schuester and Flitwick."

"Oh, Rachel," Blaine rolled his eyes. "You see…Rachel is a little bit of a diva."

Rachel snorted. "Speak for yourself, Blaine."

"I concur," Wes nodded, laughing.

Blaine rolled his eyes and folded his arms, leaning back in his seat as a smirk graced his lips.

"Wait, Hogwarts has a Show Choir?" Kurt asked, his interest piqued. "I never knew that; it wasn't mentioned in any of the letters I received from Professor McGonagall."

"It's a new club," David explained. "We have two choirs, actually: the one by Flitwick is the all boys' acapella group. Blaine, Wes, and I are a part of it. Rachel's a part of the mixed gender group run by Schuester."

"Interesting," Kurt said with a smile.

"Do you sing?" Blaine asked, interested. "Because you can join either one if you can. Flitwick is a bit strict about who joins the Warblers, though."

"Warblers?"

"The boys' name for themselves," Rachel rolled her eyes. "Our group is called the New Directions."

"I love singing. I've always wanted to be a part of Muggle Broadway; it's simply amazing."

"I love it, too!" Rachel squealed, clapping her hands happily. "Though, I do adore Celestina Warbeck. She's timeless."

"'_A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love' _is the most annoying song on the Wireless. The Weird Sisters are more awesome," David countered.

"Their songs are _terrible_," Rachel scoffed. "Ugh, you boys and your Top 40s."

Wes and Blaine collectively sighed. Kurt assumed that such an argument was normal between the two friends. "I'm a fan of Celestina Warbeck," Kurt spoke up, legs crossed. Rachel turned to face him, smiling smugly. She shot David a playful, '_I beat you, bitch' _look, and nodded in approval.

"So, Blaine, what songs did you discover over the summer, aside from the ones we exchanged over owl?" Wes asked, taking out a leather journal and a quill. "I suggest we perform songs by the Muggle favorite, Pink."

"Eight-part harmony would suffice," David added. Rachel rolled her eyes and turned to face Kurt.

"They have a _council_. It's hilarious," she whispered. Kurt gave her an incredulous look and turned to face them again.

"What house are you in?" Kurt whispered back to her, still facing the boys talking.

"Slytherin. Can't you see my tie?" Rachel said proudly, pulling at her collar, revealing her grey and green-striped tie. "Hopefully you get into Slytherin as well."

"Blaine hasn't put on his uniform properly yet, but he's a Slytherin as well. Wes is a Ravenclaw, and David is a Gryffindor."

_Slytherin. Must get into Slytherin_, Kurt thought determinedly. "I hope I get a very good house. Or an accommodating one, at least."

"Besides Slytherin, Ravenclaw is your best bet. Honestly, I can't stand Gryffindors—well, I tolerate David because we are friends and he and I can have tasteful arguments, debates, and whatnot—so hopefully you don't become a Gryffindor. Blaine has a sister, as well, in Ravenclaw, and she's very decent. She's a fourth year."

"I see," Kurt nodded.

"Here's the sheet music," Wes said, handing Blaine a long roll of parchment. Blaine hummed the notes on the paper and nodded.

"Is it in your natural key?" David asked.

Blaine nodded again.

"Blaine's the male lead of the Warblers," Rachel smirked. Blaine flushed, smiling embarrassingly.

Kurt gave him a smile. "Do you mind if you sing for us right now? I'd love to hear your voice."

"Aw, not now—"

"—Yeah, right, Blaine, we all know you want to serenade this young man here," David winked. Kurt was taken aback.

David, Rachel, and Wes exchanged furtive, amused looks. "Come on, Blaine, sing already!" Wes demanded, punching Blaine gently. Blaine cleared his throat and began to sing.

_You think I'm pretty  
>Without any makeup on<br>You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong  
>I know you get me: so I let my walls come down<em>

Kurt felt his insides melt as he heard Blaine sing, his voice smooth and perfectly in tune. As he broke into the chorus, Kurt could not help but let his jaw drop as Blaine hit the notes perfectly.

He was in for an interesting year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

OH, GOD, THIS WAS CORNY AS HELL. If anyone is curious as to which house I would sort Kurt in...it would be Ravenclaw. And the mention of Blaine's sister? Yeah, I slipped in a little bit of Danielle Anderson in there because I love her. She's the one OC I will perpetually write about.

Please review!


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